Harry and Jessica Potter & the Philosophers Stone
by TheGingernut
Summary: This is the story of the Potter Twins and their first year at Hogwarts. With Trolls, Evil Potion Masters, A suspicious Defense teacher and an out of bounds corridor, will Harry, Jessica and their friends Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Amelia Black make it through the year? My take on the first Harry Potter book.
1. The Children Who Lived

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, despite how much I would like to!**

**Okay, this is kind of AU but not AU. I don't think that made any sense, let me explain. The plot is basically the same but I'm adding some of my own characters.**

**Jessica Potter – Twin of Harry Potter.**

**Amelia Black – Daughter of Katie and Sirius Black.**

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

Chapter One – The Twins Who Lived.

"Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in something strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache.

Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursley's had a small son named Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere.

The Dursley's had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potter's. Mrs Potter was Mrs Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended that she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursley's shuddered to think about what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son and daughter, but they had never even seen them. Their children were another reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.

When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair. None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls "Little tyke," chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner or the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr Dursley didn't realise what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive – no, _looking_ at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mr Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes — the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt —these people were obviously collecting for something… yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning._ He _didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakers opposite.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard –"

"— yes, their son, Harry –"

"— their daughter, Jessica –"

Mr Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.

He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking… no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew _was _called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold and perhaps his niece wasn't called Jessica. Maybe it was Jenny or even Josephine. There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her — if _he'd_ had a sister like that… but all the same, those people in cloaks…

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passer-by stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off. Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn't improve his mood — was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr. Dursley wondered? Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word! ("Shan't!").

Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"_And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newsreader allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"_

"_Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early — it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."_

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Er — Petunia, dear — you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls… shooting stars… and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…"

"_So?_" snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought… maybe… it was something to do with… you know… _her _crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their children — they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?"

"What's the boy's name again? Howard, isn't it?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

"But what about the girl?" he asked again, yet dreading the answer.

"The brat's name is Jessica. Why?"

"No reason."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there.

It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of — well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters _were _involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind… He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on — he yawned and turned over — it couldn't affect _them_… How very wrong he was. Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness.

It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome.

He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.

He clicked it again — the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun.

She looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall. "All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no — even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls… shooting stars… Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent — I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours."

She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really _has _gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A _what_?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops.

"As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has _gone —"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense — for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort_."

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name." "I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, _Voldemort_, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too — well —_noble _to use them." "It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the _rumours _that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're _saying_," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are — are — that they're — _dead_."

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James… I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… Oh, Albus…"

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know… I know…" he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke — and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's — it's _true_?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done… all the people he's killed… he couldn't kill a little child?

It's just astounding… of all the things to stop him… but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why _you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry and Jessica to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."

"You don't mean – you _can't _mean the people who live _here_?"

cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four.

"Dumbledore — you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son — I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. The Potters come and live here!"

"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "Their aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to them when they're older. I've written them a letter." "A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand them! They'll be famous — a legend — I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry — every child in our world will know his name!" "Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they can walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?" Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes — yes, you're right, of course. But how are the children getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding the twins underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them."

"You think it —_wise _— to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to — what was that?" A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky — and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it.

He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so _wild _— long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got 'em, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got 'em out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. They fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol, an' Harry woudn' let go o' her."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep, and a baby boy, also asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. "Is that where —?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have those scars forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy.

I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground.

Well — give them here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.

"Could I — could I say good-bye to 'em, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss and did the same to Jessica. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it —Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry an' Jessica off ter live with Muggles —"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry and Jessica gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry and Jessica's blankets, and then came back to the other two.

For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall — Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry, Jessica" he murmured.

He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry's small hand closed on the letter beside him and he and his sister slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…

They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry and Jessica Potter — the children who lived!"

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please review! **

**I intend to try and finish the whole series, even if it kills me. There will be a few changes from canon, in the sense that some people will live and such. **

**Anyways, please review :-)**

**-TheGingernut x **


	2. The Vanishing Glass

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, despite how much I would like to!**

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece and nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different colored bonnets– but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blonde boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that two other children lived in the house, too.

Yet Harry and Jessica Potter were both still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Their Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry and Jessica woke with a start. Their aunt rapped on the door again. "Up!" she screeched. The twins heard her walking toward the kitchen and the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove.

Harry tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it.

Their aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you two up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn; and you, girl, can make me and Vernon coffee and pour some Chocolate milk for your cousin. I want everything to be perfect for Duddy's birthday."

Harry and Jessica groaned.

"What did you two say?" their aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing…" Jessica mumbled.

Dudley's birthday– how could they have forgotten? Harry slowly got out of bed, and started looking for socks on his side of their 'room,' while Jessica looked for the clothes on her side of the cupboard. Harry managed to find a pair under his side of their shared bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, pulled them on. The twins were used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where they slept.

When they were both dressed, they went down the hall together and into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all of Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry and Jessica, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise– unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley's favorite punching bags was Harry. He may not have looked it but he was very fast and even Dudley's gang drew the line at hitting girls.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry and Jessica had always been small and skinny for their age. it probably's didn't help that all they had to wear were Dudley's old hand–me–downs, and Dudley was about four times bigger than they were. They both had thin faces, knobby knees, but Harry had jet black hair, and bright green eyes whereas Jessica had red hair and Hazel eyes and didn't need glasses like Harry. Harry wore round glasses held together by Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose. Harry had a thin scars on his forehead that was shaped like bolts of lightning, it was the only thing he liked about his appearance. He had it for as long as he could remember, and the first question that Harry could remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

_Don't ask questions_– that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys. Rule number two– _don't talk in unison._

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon, and Jessica was turning on the coffee maker.

"Comb your hair, you two!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry and Jessica needed a haircut. The twins must have had more haircuts than the rest of the kids in their class put together, but it made no difference, their hair simply grew that way– all over the place. Jessica's hair was somewhat more tamer, as it was long but it was still fairly hard to control.

Harry was frying eggs and Jessica was pouring the Chocolate milk out by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick black hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel– Harry and Jessica often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of eggs and bacon down on the table as Jessica placed the coffee and Chocolate milk down in Dudley's, Vernon's, and Petunia's spot at the table before pouring some Orange Juice for her and Harry. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty–six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, its here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy."

"All right, thirty–seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry and Jessica, who both could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down their bacon and draining their cups of orange juice as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another _two_ presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? _Two_ more presents. Is that all right?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty… thirty…"

"Thirty–nine, Dudley" Jessica reminded him.

Petunia shot a glare in her direction.

"Oh." Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry, Jessica, and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a DVD player. He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them." She jerked her head in the twins' direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry and Jessica's hearts gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry and Jessica were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. They hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made them look at photographs of all the cats she'd ever owned.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry and Jessica as though they'd planned this. Harry and Jessica knew that they ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when they reminded themselves that would be a whole year before they had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates those two!"

The Dursley's often spoke about the twins as though they weren't there– or rather, as though they were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like slugs.

"What about what's–her–name, your friend– Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave us here," Harry (they'd be able to watch what they wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).

Aunt Petunia looked as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"We won't blow up the house," said Jessica, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "… and leave them in the car…."

"That car's new, they're not sitting in it alone…."

"Completely ignoring the fact that we could die, I see." Jessica muttered under her breath.

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying –it had been years since he'd really cried– but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I… don't… want… them… t–t–to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always sp–spoil everything!" He shot Harry and Jessica a nasty grin through the gap of his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang –"Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically– and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry and Jessica, who both couldn't believe their luck, were sitting in the back of the Dursleys' car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the very first time. Their aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with them, but before they left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry and Jessica aside.

"I'm warning you two," he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to theirs. "I'm warning you now, Potters –any funny business, anything at all– and you'll both be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"We're not going to do anything," said Harry and Jessica together, "honest…"

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe them. No one ever did.

"Don't talk in unison!" he growled. "Now get in the car!"

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and Jessica and it was no good telling the Dursleys that they didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry and Jessica coming back from the barbers looking as though they hadn't gone at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut both of Harry's hair so short that he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left, "to hide that horrible scar." Jessica, however, had gotten a bowl cut and her hair left at uneven lengths. Dudley had laughed himself silly at the twins, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day where they were already laughed at for their baggy clothes. Next morning, however, they had gotten up to find their hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. They had been given a week in the cupboard for this, even though they had both tried to explain that neither of them _could_ explain how they had both grown it back so quickly and at the same time.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force them into some old revolting sweaters of Dudley's (a brown one with orange puff balls for Harry, and a sickly yellow one for Jessica). The harder she tried to pull the two sweaters over the twins' heads, the smaller they both seemed to become, until finally they may have fitted a pair of hand puppets, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry and Jessica. Aunt Petunia had decided they must have shrunk in the wash, and, to their great relief, they weren't punished.

On the other hand, they had both gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing the two of them as usual when, as much to their surprise as anyone else's, there they were sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry and Jessica's headmistress telling them that they had been climbing school buildings. But all they'd tried to do (as they shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of their cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry and Jessica supposed that the wind must have caught them mid–jump.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, their cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage–smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Jessica, the bank, Harry and Lucy were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles.

"…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle, it was flying." Harry chimed in.

Jessica mentally winced and face palmed as Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry and Jessica, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache. "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"I know it was only a dream." Harry said

Harry wished she hadn't brought it up. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than when they asked questions or spoke in unison, it was their talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon– they seemed to think they might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry and Jessica what they wanted before the Dursleys could hurry them away, they bought the twins cheap lemon ice pops. They weren't bad, either, the two of them thought, licking them while they watched a gorilla scratching its head that looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blonde.

Harry and Jessica had the best morning they'd had in a long time. They were careful to walk a little ways apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting them. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his Knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and the twins were allowed to share the first.

Harry and Jessica felt, afterward, that they should have known it was all too good to last.

After lunch, they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man–crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can– but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon taped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

Jessica then walked away to look at some of the more active snakes in the area.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself– no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard for a bedroom that they were forced to share, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake them up; at least he had Jessica in there and they got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with his.

_It winked._

Harry stared at the snake. Then Harry looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. Harry looked back at the snake and, winked back.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly,

_"I get that all the time."_

"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't entirely sure if the snake could hear them. "It must be really annoying."

The snake vigorously nodded.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

_Boa Constrictor, Brazil._

"Is Brazil a nice place?" asked Harry. "Do you miss it there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh– so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made them both jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T _BELIEVE_ WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Dudley came waddling towards them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. Jessica came over from where she was looking at another snake to help Harry up off the floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened– one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt up with howls of horror.

Harry and Jessica gasped; the glass from the boa constrictor tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, and slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past them, the twins could have sworn they heard a low, hissing voice say, "Brazil, here I come…. Thanksss, amigosss."

"Anytime…" The twins replied, still stunned by the situation.

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry and Jessica had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry and Jessica at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on the twins. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, "Go– cupboard– stay– no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

* * *

Harry and Jessica laid in their dark cupboard much later, wishing they had a watch. They didn't know what time it was and neither of them could be sure that the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, neither of them could risk sneaking to the kitchen to get them both some food.

"Did you not think it odd when the snake started to reply to you, Harry?" Jessica asked.

"I didn't really think of it to be honest." Harry replied.

Harry and Jessica had lived with the Dursleys for ten years, ten miserable years, as long as they both could remember, ever since they'd been babies and their parents had died in that car crash. The two of them couldn't ever remember being in the car when their parents died. Sometimes though, when they put their heads together and strained their memories during the long hours in their cupboard, they came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and in Harry's case, burning pains on his forehead. This, they supposed, was the crash, but they had no idea where all the green light came from. They couldn't remember anything at all about their parents. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never talked about them, and of course they were forbidden to ask questions. There weren't even any photographs of them in the house.

When they had been younger, Harry and Jessica had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take them away, but it had never happened; aside from each other, the Dursleys were their only family. Yet sometimes they thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know the two of them. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to the two of them once while they had been out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking the twins furiously if they knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them all out of the shop without buying anything. A wild–looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at them once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shook hands with Harry and Jessica on the street just the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they tended to vanish the second either of them tried to get a closer look.

At school, Harry and Jessica had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated those odd Potter twins in their baggy old clothes and freaky looking scars, and nobody like to disagree with Dudley's gang.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and please review! **

**Also, Jessica doesn't have a scar because, when I pictured it, Lord Voldemort would have gone for Harry first seeing as he was closer to him in the crib and then killed Jessica once he had killed Harry but obviously that didn't happen and only Harry got hit with the killing curse so only Harry ended up with a scar. **

**-TheGingernut x **


	3. The Letters From No one

**Disclaimer: I do not and never will own Harry Potter.**

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry and Jessica their longest ever punishment. By the time they were both allowed out of their cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harry was glad that school was over. Unlike Jessica who enjoyed school, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley's favourite sport: Harry Hunting.

This was why Harry and Jessica spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where they could see a thin–ray of hope. When September came around they would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in their life, they wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry and Jessica on the other hand, were going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told the twins. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No thanks," said Jessica.

"The poor toilets never had anything as horrible as a head down it," Harry added.

"It might be sick." They finished together. Then they ran, before Dudley could work out what they'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry and Jessica at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let them both watch television and gave them a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand–new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobby sticks used for hitting each other while the teacher wasn't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown–up. Harry and Jessica didn't trust themselves to speak. They thought their ribs might have been cracking from trying not to laugh.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen then next morning when Harry and Jessica went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. They went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water.

"What's that?" Harry asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if they dared to ask questions.

"Your new school uniforms," she said,

They looked in the bowl again.

"Oh," Harry said, "we didn't realize they had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things for the both of you. They'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harry and Jessica seriously doubted this, but though it best not to argue. They sat down at the table and tried not to think about how they were going to look on their first day at Stonewall High– like they were wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from the twins' new uniforms. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it," he said while Jessica took the last piece of bacon from the plate.

"Poke him with your smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Four things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and– _letters for Harry and Jessica._

Harry picked them up and stared at them, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in their entire lives, had written to them. Who would? They had no friends, no other relatives– they didn't belong to the library, so they'd never even gotten rude notes asking for books back. Yet here they were, letters, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

_Mr H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

_Miss J. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

The envelopes were thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the addresses were written in emerald–green ink. There were no stamps.

Turning the envelopes over, their hands trembling, Harry saw purple wax seals bearing coats of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding large letter _H's._

"Hurry up boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke. He could almost picture Jessica rolling her eyes at the terrible joke from the kitchen. Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at their letters. Harry handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard before giving Jessica her letter and beginning to open his.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk…"

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry and Jessica's got something!"

Both Harry and Jessica were on the point of unfolding their letters', which were written on the same heavy parchment as the envelopes, when they were jerked sharply out of both of their hands by Uncle Vernon.

"That's _ours!_" said Jessica, trying to snatch them back.

"Who'd be writing to either of you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking both letters open with one hand. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the greyish white of porridge.

"P–P–Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letters to read them, but Uncle Vernon held them both high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took the two letters curiously and read the first few lines on both of them. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness– Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, Jessica, and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read those letters," he said loudly.

"Why would you get to read them, Dudley? You name wasn't even on the letter!" Jessica exclaimed angrily.

_"We_ want to read them, as they're _ours,"_ Harry shouted.

"Get out, all three of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letters back inside their envelopes.

Harry and Jessica didn't move.

"WE WANT OUR LETTERS!" they shouted.

"Let _me_ see them!" demanded Dudley.

"OUT!" roared Uncle Vernon as he took Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks, and threw them into the hall before pushing her out as well, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry promptly had a furious but silent fight with Dudley over who would listen at the keyhole, whereas Jessica rolled her eyes and looked through the crack between the floor and the door. Not long later, she was joined by Harry, glasses dangling from his ear.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the addresses– how could they possibly know where the two of them sleep? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching –spying– might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want–"

Harry and Jessica could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get any answers…. Yes, that's best… we won't do anything…."

"But–"

"I'm not having any in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took them in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harry and Jessica in their cupboard.

"Where's out letters?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the doorway. "Who's writing to us?"

"No one. They were addressed to the two of you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned them."

"How could they have been mistakes, they had our name and our cupboard on them?" said Jessica angrily

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which Harry thought looked quite painful.

"Er –yes, Harry, Jessica– about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking… you're both really getting a bit big for it… we think it might be nice if you both moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" Harry said.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped their uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now. Your aunt's going to buy a second bed for the room first thing tomorrow."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took the twins one trip upstairs to move everything they owned from the cupboard to this room. Harry sat down on the bed and stared around the room while Jessica went and looked at the bookshelf. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month–old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first–ever television set, which he put his foot through when his favourite program was cancelled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't _want_ them in there… I _need_ that room… make them get out."

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed while Jessica pulled a few. Yesterday they'd have given anything to be up here. Today they'd rather be back in their cupboard with those letters than up here without them.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letters in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept staring at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry and Jessica, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's two more! Mr and Miss H and J Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive–"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry and Jessica right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letters from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind while Jessica grabbed hold of his ankles in an attempt to stop him gong very fast. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with the twins' letters clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard– I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed out at Harry and Jessica. "Dudley –go– just go."

Harry walked round his and Jessica's new room. Someone knew they had moved out of their cupboard and also seemed to know they hadn't received their first letters. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time they'd make sure the letter writer didn't fail. He had a plan.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly while Jessica turned over and went back to sleep. He knew from experience not to wake Jessica early. He dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He snuck downstairs without turning on any lights.

He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door.

"AAAAARRRGH!"

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat– something _alive!_

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized the big, squashy something had been their uncle's face and stomach. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at him for about half an hour and then told him to go and make him a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off to the kitchen where Jessica was up and making Petunia coffee and pouring out Dudley's juice and by the time Harry got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see six letters addressed in green ink– three for Harry, three for Jessica.

"We want–" they began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before their eyes.

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't _deliver_ them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twenty–four letters –twelve for Harry, twelve for Jessica– arrived for the twins. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the front door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through The Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Forty–eight letters for Harry and Jessica found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the four dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded all the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to _you two_ this badly?" Dudley asked Harry and Jessica in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his toast, "no damn letters today–"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back on his head. Next moment, fifty or sixty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leaped into the air trying to catch one and Jessica tried to pick one up off the floor.

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry and Jessica around their waists and threw them into the hall before either could get one though. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could still hear the letters streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his moustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his moustache missing that no one dared to argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded–up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake 'em off… shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy–looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley, Harry, and Jessica shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored and Jessica curled in a ball but Harry stayed awake, sitting up on the windowsill staring down at the lights of passing cars below and wondering….

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"'Scuse me, but are any of you Mr H. and Miss J. Potter? Only I got about an 'undred each of these at the front desk."

She held up two letters so they could read the green ink addresses:

_Mr H. Potter_

_Room 17_

_Railview Hotel_

_Cokeworth_

_Miss J. Potter_

_Room 17_

_Railview Hotel_

_Cokeworth_

The twins made a grab for their letters but Uncle Vernon knocked their hands out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a ploughed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a _television."_

Monday. This reminded Harry and Jessica of something. If it _was_ Monday –and they could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week because of television– then tomorrow, Tuesday, would be Harry and Jessica's eleventh birthday. Of course, their birthdays were never exactly fun– last year; the Dursleys had given them each a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks. Still, people didn't turn eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable looking little shack imaginable. One thing was certain, there was no television there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to the, pointing with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron–grey water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. Jessica was casting wary looks out the side of the boat and shuffling about every now and again. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken–down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wood walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips and five bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chips bags just smoked and shrivelled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry and Jessica privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer them up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few mouldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth–eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry and Jessica were left to find the softest bit of floor they could and curl up together under the thinnest, most ragged blankets.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. Harry shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his and Jessica's stomachs rumbling with hunger. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry that he and Jessica would be eleven in ten minutes time. He lay and watched their birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. They both hoped the roof wouldn't fall in, although they might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that they'd be able to sneak a few somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and they'd be eleven. Thirty seconds… twenty… ten… nine –maybe they'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him– three… two… one…

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

* * *

**Please read and review! :-)**

**-TheGingernut**


	4. The Keeper of Keys

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. **

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands– now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you– I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then–

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it sung clean off the hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but they could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all that hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey….."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry an' Jessica!" said the giant.

The twins looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowed face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you two, you was only babies," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot yer dad, Harry, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes, an' Jessica, yeh've got yer mum's hair and yer dad's eyes." Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway– Harry, Jessica," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh both. Got something for yeh two here– I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled out a slightly squashed box. Harry and Lucy opened it together with trembling fingers. Inside was large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry and Jess _written on it in green icing.

"I would've put yer full name on Jessica but it wouldn't 'ave fit." The giant said.

Harry and Jessica looked up at the giant. They meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to their mouths, and Harry said instead "Who are you?"

"Manners Harry." Jessica scolded.

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook each of the twins' arms.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace, they couldn't see what he was doing, but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry and Jessica felt the warmth wash over them they'd sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid he first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

Jessica tried hard to hide her smirk as he said this.

He passed the sausages to the twins, who were both so hungry they had never tasted anything so wonderful, but neither of them could take their eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, Harry said, "I'm sorry, but we still don't really know who you are." Harry said, indicating to him and Jessica.

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh both, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts– yeh two know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er– no," said Harry.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

_"Sorry?"_ barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them who should be sorry! I knew yeh two weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh two wouldn't even know about' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud. Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" Jessica asked.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that these children –these children! –know nothin' abou'– about ANYTHING?"

Harry and Jessica thought this was going a bit far. Their marks in school hadn't been too bad.

"We know _some_ things," Harry said.

"We can, you know, do math and stuff," Jessica added.

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About _our_ world, I mean. _Your_ world. _My_ world. _Yer parents world."_

"What world?" Jessica asked.

Hagrid look as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry and Jessica.

"But yeh must know about yer mum and dad," he said. "I mean, they're _famous._ You're both_famous."_

"What?" said Harry. "Our– our mum and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh both don' know… yeh both don' know…" Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry and Jessica with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh both don' know what yeh _are?"_ he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell them anything!"

A braver man than Uncle Vernon would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with anger.

"You never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left for them? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from them all these years?"

"Kept _what_ from us?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry– yer a wizard. An Jessica- yer a witch"

"There was a silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"That's not a nice thing to say to someone, you know." Jessica said with a scowl on her face and the same time as Harry gasped "We're _what?"_

"A witch an' wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' thumpin' good'uns, I'd say, once yeh've both been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh two be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh both read yer letters."

Harry and Jessica stretched out their hands at last to take the yellowish envelopes, addressed in emerald green ink to Mr. H. and Ms. J. Potter, The Floor, Hut–on–the–Rock, The Sea. They pulled out the letters and read:

Hogwarts School

_Of_ Witchcraft _And_ Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. / Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

_Deputy Headmistress_

Questions filled Harry and Jessica's heads. Harry was the first one to ask "What does it mean, they await our owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his over coat he pulled an owl –a real, live, rather ruffled–looking owl– a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth, he scribbled a note that the twins could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry and Jessica their letters.

Taking them to buy their things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry seemed to realise that his mouth was open and closed it quickly.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen–faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"They're not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop them," he said.

"A what?" said Jessica, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you an' yer sister grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"Literally" Jessica mumbled under her breath.

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard and witch indeed!"

"You _knew? _You _knew_ we're a– a witch and wizard? You _knew_ all along and– and never told us?" said Harry.

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. _"Knew!_ Of course we knew! How could you both not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that –that _school_– and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was– a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this, and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed as though she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you two, and of course I knew you'd both be just the same, just as strange, just as –as–_abnormal_– and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with the two of you!"

"Blown up!" Jessica shouted, face pale. "You told us they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry an' Jessica Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their names!"

"What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He suddenly looked anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh both, how much yeh both didn't know. Ah, Harry, Jessica, I don't know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh both –but someone's gotta– yeh both can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh– mind, I can't tell yeh both everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with –with a person called– but it's incredible yeh two don't know his name, everyone in our world knows–"

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Well– I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"How come?" asked Jessica

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, Jessica, people are still. Blimey, this is difficult. See there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…"

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.

"Nah –can't spell it. All right– _Voldemort."_ Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this –this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' for followers. Got'em, too– some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry, Jessica. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches… terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him –an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places let was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You–Know–Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not just then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You–Know–Who never tried to get'em on his side before… probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way… maybe he thought he could persuade 'em. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You two were just a year old. He came ter yer house an'–an'–"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad –knew yer mum an' dad an' nicer people yeh couldn't find– anyway…"

"You–Know–Who killed 'em. An' then– an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing– he tried to kill you two, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on your forehead, Harry? That's no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh –took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even– but it didn't work on the two of you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. Nobody lived after he decided ter kill 'em, nobody, not one, except you, Harry, an' he killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age –the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts– an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in the twins minds. As Hagrid's story came to a close, they saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than either of them had ever remembered it before– and they remembered something else, for the first time in their lives: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching them sadly.

"Took yeh both from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…"

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Jessica jumped; she had almost forgotten that the Dursley's were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, you two," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you two, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured– and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them, in my opinion –asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types– just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end–"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley –I'm warning you– one more word…"

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry and Jessica, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

"But what happened to Vol–sorry– I mean, You–Know–Who?" asked Harry.

"Good question. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see… he was getting' more an' more powerful– why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don't believe it. People who was on his side came back to ours. Some of em' came outta trances. Don' reckon they could've done it if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere, but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on –_I_ dunno what it was, no one does– but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, both felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A witch and wizard? Them? How could they possibly be? They'd spent their life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if they were really a witch and wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock them both up in their cupboard? If they'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick the two of them around like footballs?

"Hagrid," said Harry, "I think you must have made a mistake."

"Don't be thick, Harry. It might sound ridiculous but it's the only explanation for all of those strange things that happened around us." Jessica pointed out.

"Not a witch an' wizard, eh? Jessica pointed it out. All o' those things happen when one of you was scared or angry?" Hagrid said.

Harry looked into the fire. Now that he came to think about it… every odd thing that had ever made their aunt and uncle furious with the both of them happened when Harry or Jessica, had been upset or angry… chased by Dudley's gang, they both had found themselves out of their reach… dreading going to school with those ridiculous haircuts, they'd managed to make it all grow back… and the very last time Dudley had hit the two of them, hadn't they gotten their revenge, without even realizing they were doing it? Hadn't they set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry and Jessica looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at them.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry an' Jessica Potter, not a witch an' wizard– you wait, you'll both be right famous at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you they're not going?" he hissed. "They're going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they need all sorts or rubbish –spell books and wands and–"

"If they want ter go a great Muggle like you won't stop them," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son an' daughter ter goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their names have been down ever since they were born. They're off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won't know themselves. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled–"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH THEM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER–" he thundered, "–INSULT–ALBUS–DUMBLEDORE–IN–FRONT–OF–ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley– there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry and Jessica saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Jessica was practically rolling on the ground in laughter. She was laughing so hard, that she wasn't even making a noise.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much let ter do."

He cast a sideways look at Harry and Jessica under his bushy eye brows.

"Be grateful if neither of yeh mentioned that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm –er– not supposed ter do magic, strictly speaking. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh both an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff– one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job–"

"Oh, you've got my promise. Why aren't you allowed to do magic though"? Jessica asked.

"Oh, well– I was at Hogwarts meself but I –er– got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?" said Harry.

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get u ter town, get yeh both yer books and that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to the twins.

"You two can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

**As per usual, please read and review. :-)**

**-TheGingernut x**


	5. Diagon Alley

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, sadly. **

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could both tell it was daylight and that the other was awake, he kept his heir eyes shut.

He could feel Jessica stirring next to him.

"It was a dream," he told himself firmly. "I dreamed as giant called Hagrid came to tell me I'm going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be home in my cupboard."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

_And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door,_ he thought, his heart sinking. But he didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Jessica mumbled, "we're getting up."

They both sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off them. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry and Jessica scrambled to their feet, so happy they felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside both of them. Harry went straight to the window and jerked it open and Jessica went to try and wake up Hagrid. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who still didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that," said Harry.

He tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Wow, that bird has an attitude." Jessica commented.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl–"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What? How do we pay an owl?" Jessica asked.

"He wants payin' for deliverin' the paper. Look inside the pockets."

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing _but_ pockets– bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags… finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange–looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so he could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, Harry, Jessica, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London and buy yeh both yer stuff fer school."

"What was the point of making us pay if he was going to get up anyways?" Jessica asked herself.

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something which made him feel as though the happy balloon inside of him had a puncture.

"Um– Hagrid?" said Harry.

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"We haven't got any money– and you heard Uncle Vernon last night… he won't pay for us to go and learn magic." Harry explained.

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh two anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed–"

"They didn't keep their gold in the house! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have some sausages, they're not bad cold– an' I wouldn't' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, either."

"Wizards have _banks?"_ Jessica asked, amazed.

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Jessica dropped the bits of sausage they were holding.

_"Goblins?"_ she said in astonishment.

"Yeah –so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh both that. Never mess with goblins, Harry, Jessica. Gringotts is the safest place In the world fer anything you want to keep safe– 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyways. For Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself proudly. "He usually get me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you two –gettin' things from Gringotts– knows he can trust me, see.

"Yeh both got everythin'? Come on, then."

Harry and Jessica followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water at the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked as he looked around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

_"Flew?"_ said the Jessica.

"Yeah– but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got you both with me."

They all settled down in the boat, Harry and Jessica still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

"Seems like a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry and Jessica another of his sideways looks, "If I was ter –er– speed things up a bit, would yeh both mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?

"Of course not," said Jessica. She was eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off towards land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Spells– enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons' guardin' the high–security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way– Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

They both sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the _Daily Prophet._ Harry and Jessica had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult for them, they'd never had so many questions in their lives.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic _do?"_ he continued.

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles hat there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?" said Jessica.

_"Why?_ Blimey, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbour wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passer-by stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry, Jessica? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he and Jessica ran to keep up, "did you say there are _dragons_ at Gringotts?

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd _like_ one?" Jessica asked.

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid– here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to the twins so they could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary–yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letters, Harry, Jessica?" he asked as counted stitches.

Harry and Jessica took the parchment envelopes out of their pockets.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh both need."

Jessica put her letter back in her pocked as she read the list over Harry's shoulder.

_Hogwarts School_

_of__ Witchcraft __and__ Wizardry_

Uniform

First–year students will require:

-Three sets of plain work robes (black)

-One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

-One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

-One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

Course Books

All students should have a copy of the following:

_-The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

_-A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_-Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_-A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch

_-One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore

_-Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

_-The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self_–_Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

-1 wand

-1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

-1 set glass or crystal phials

-1 telescope

-1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Jessica wondered.

"If yeh know where to go," Hagrid said.

Neither Harry nor Jessica had ever been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken–down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and Jessica had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it would sell a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street with ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke s is it, that the Dursleys had cooked up? If the twins hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humour, they might have thought so; yet somehow even though everything Hagrid had told the two of them so far was unbelievable, they couldn't help trusting him.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby–looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, neither of the twins would have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't' glance at it at. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other side as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only they and Hagrid could see it. Before either of them could mention this, Hagrid had steered them both inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hands on Harry and Jessica's shoulders and making their knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at them both, "is that– could that be?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter… what an honour."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back."

Neither of the twins knew what to say. Everyone was looking at them. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron while Jessica looked on in amusement.

"Doris Crockford, Mr Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand– I'm all a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"Are you the man we saw when we went shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley?" Jessica said, looking at Diggle, whose top hat fell off in excitement.

"Yeah, you bowed to us that one time in the store!"

"They remember!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? They remember me!"

Harry shook hands again and again– Doris Crockford and Dedalus Diggle kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Jessica, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P–P–Potters," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand first before doing the same with Jessica's hand. "c–can't t–tell you how p–pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked.

"D–Defence Against the D–D–Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N–not that you two n–need it, eh, P–P–Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll both be g–getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g–got to p–pick up a new b–book on vampires, myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry and Jessica to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble,

"Must get on– lots ter buy. Come on, Harry, Jessica."

Doris Crockford and Dedalus Diggle shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry and Jessica.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you were famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' to meet yeh both– mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first–hand experience…. They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, an' there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag –never been the same since. Scared of his students, scared of his own subject– now, where's my umbrella?"

Harry and Jessica exchanged bewildered expressions. Vampires? Hags? Their heads were swimming. Jessica was looking forward to learning about all of these things in the Wizarding world. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up… two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, you two."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered –it wriggled– in the middle, a small hole appeared –it grew wider and wider– a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at the Twins amazement. They stepped through the archway and quickly looked over their shoulders and saw the archway shrink itself back into a solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons–All Sizes–Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver–Self-Stirring–Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll both be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harry wished that he had about eight more eyes. His heads turned in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. He looked at Jessica to see that she was doing the same with an amazed expression on her face. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen sickles an ounce, they're mad…."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying –Eeylops Owl Emporium–Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry and Jessica's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," they heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand –fastest ever–" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments neither of them had ever seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon….

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the little shops. Standing behind its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was–

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as the three of them walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than the Twins. He had swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, the twins noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, sliver this time, with words engraved on top.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of there. Hagrid, Harry, and Jessica made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta the Potter's safe."

"You have the key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, as he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of mouldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Jessica watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You–Know–What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he, Harry, and Jessica followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the halls.

"What's the You–Know–What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my jobs worth ter tell the two of yeh that."

Griphook held the open for them. Harry, who both had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in arrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in –Hagrid with some difficulty– and were off.

At first they just went through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. Jessica, on the other hand didn't enjoy the ride. It reminded her of a rollercoaster and made her feel ill.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but they kept them wide open. Harry once thought that he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was dragon, but too late– they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," the Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry and Jessica gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All theirs– it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from them faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much the Twins cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to them, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Harry and Jessica pile enough in a bag to get their school things.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms; we'll keep the rest safe fer yeh both." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

Jessica groaned as she got back into the cart.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and be trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Jessica asked with a wary glance at Griphook.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Jessica grimaced at the goblin when the doors opened.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, the twins were sure, and they both leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least– but at first they thought it was empty. Then they noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Both twins longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal car, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside of Gringotts. They didn't know where to run first now that they both had bags full of money. Neither of them had to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that they were each holding more money than either of them had in their lives– more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniforms," said Hagrid, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, Jessica, would yeh two mind if I slipped off fer a pick–me–up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry and Jessica entered Madam Malkin's shop together but alone, both feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dears?" she said, when the twins started to speak. "Got the lot here– another young boy and girl being fitted up just now, in fact.

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on stools the other side of him, while Jessica went to another part of the shop where a girl with wavy black hair and grey eyes was waiting for her robes. She slipped long robes over each of their heads, called over another witch who went over to Jessica, and they both began pinning them up to the right lengths.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have _you_ got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

_"I_ do– Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Do either of you know what house you will be in yet?"

"No," said the Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been– imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at three large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"Oh, that's Hagrid," said Harry, smiling as he waved to Hagrid.

"Yeah," Harry said "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of _savage_– lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"We think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

_"Do_ you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with the two of you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said shortly. Harry didn't feel like going into the matter.

"Oh, sorry," said the boy, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." said Harry.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same; they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old Wizarding families. What are your names, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That should do it. You're done, dear."

Not sorry or an excuse to stop talking to the boy, Harry hopped down from the footstools.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

They had to wait a few minutes for Jessica to finish before moving onto the next shop.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice creams Hagrid had bought him and Jessica (two scoops of chocolate with sprinkles).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," he lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. He both cheered up a bit when they found a bottle of ink that changed colour at it was used. When they left the shop, Harry said,

"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, I keep forgettin' how little yeh both know– not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make us feel worse," said Harry grimly. He told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"–And he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in–"

"Yeh both not _from_ a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh both _were_ –he's grown up knowin' yer names if his parents are wizardin' folk. You both saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw the two of yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles– look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what _is_ Quidditch?"

"It's our Quidditch. Witch an' wizard sport. It's like –like soccer in the Muggle world–everyone follows Quidditch–played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls–sorta hard to explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but–"

"We're probably in Hufflepuff," said the Harry gloomily.

Jessica rolled her eyes at her brother's pessimism.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You–Know–Who was one."

"Vol– sorry–You–Know–Who was at Hogwarts?" asked Jessica.

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought their books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from _Curses and Counter curses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_ by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"Hmm, good idea." Jessica murmured.

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let them buy solid gold cauldrons either ("It says pewter on yer lists"), but they got nice sets of scales for weighing potion ingredients and collapsible brass telescopes. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor, jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for two supplies of basic potion ingredients for Harry and Jessica, they examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and miniscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked their lists again.

"Just yer wands left– oh yeah, an' I still haven't gotten yeh both a birthday present."

Harry and Jessica felt themselves go red.

"You don't have to–"

"You've done so much already–"

"I know I don't have to, and I'm glad to help yeh both out. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd both be laughed at–an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yeh two an owl. All the kids want owls; they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everything."

"Hagrid, can I get a cat please? Owl's freak me out." Jessica asked.

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes and started to make their way to where they were going to meet Jessica at Ollivanders. Harry was now carrying a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering their thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

Jessica took that moment to meet them with a Ginger tabby cat in a cage.

"He's so cute! Thank you so much, Hagrid!" she said with a grin on her face.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now– only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh both gotta have the best wands.

Magic wands… this was what Harry and Jessica had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Both Potters felt strangely as though they had entered a very strict library; Harry swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to them and instead looked at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. The very dust and silence in the shop seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry and Jessica jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was loud, crunching noise and he got off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said the twins awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you both soon. Harry Potter, Jessica Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes, Mr Potter, and you would resemble her almost completely if it wasn't for the eyes, Ms Potter. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr Ollivander moved closer to the Twins. They both wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it– it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr Ollivander came so close that he practically had his nose up against their foreheads. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that is where…"

Mr Ollivander gently touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…."

He shook his head and then, to the twins' relief, he spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again…. Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er– yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't _use_ them?" said Mr Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well now– Mr and Ms Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pockets. "Which are your wand arms?"

"Er– well, we're both right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arms. That's it." He measured Harry and Jessica from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round their heads. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful, magical substance, Mr Potter, Ms Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another witch or wizard's wand."

Harry realized suddenly that the tape measure, which was measuring between Harry's nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do" he said and the tape measure crumpled to a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once and passed it to Jessica who had the same result.

"Maple and Phoenix Feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-"Harry tried- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back and given to Jessica only for her to have to have the same reaction.

"No, no- here, Hazel and Phoenix Feather. Nine and three- quarter inches. Reasonably supple." He passed it to Harry before jerking it out of his hands again. This time when he passed the wand to Jessica, she got a warm feeling spread through her fingers and Red and Silver sparks shot out of the end of the wand.

"Oh, well done Mrs Potter." Said Mr Ollivander, wrapping up her wand. "This wand is made for a determined witch; I feel you will do well with it."

Harry, on the other hand, tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands as mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- Holly and Phoenix Feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand and felt sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of Red and Gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid and Jessica whooped and clapped and Mr Ollivander cried "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well…well…how curious…how very curious."

He put Harry's wand into a box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious…curious."

"Sorry," said Harry "but _what's _curious?"

Mr Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather- just one other. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, it's brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr Ollivander too much. He and Jessica both paid seven galleons for their wands and Mr Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry, Jessica and Hagrid made their way down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road. Jessica was reading one of the extra books she had gotten from Flourish and Blotts, Hagrid occasionally pulling her out of the way of something so that she wouldn't get hurt. Neither of them even noticed how many people were gawping at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all of their funny shaped packages, with the sleeping snowy owl on Harry's lap or the mewling kitten on Jessica's. Up another escalator, out on to Paddington station; Harry only realised where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time for a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry and Jessica a hamburger each and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Jessica had put her book down and was now solely focused on her burger. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange somehow.

"You alright you two? Yer both very quiet," said Hagrid.

Jessica just pointed at her burger to show that she was eating, prompting a chuckle from him before he turned to Harry.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He and Jessica had just had the best birthday of their lives- and yet- he chewed his hamburger trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr Ollivander… but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect me to do great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol- sorry- I mean the night my parents died."

Hagrid leant across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out and that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts- I did- still do, 'smatter of fact."

Hagrid helped Harry and Jessica on to the train that would take them both back to the Dursley's, then handed them an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said "first o' September- Kings Cross- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursley's, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me…see yeh soon, Harry, Jessica."

The train pulled out of the station, Harry and Jessica wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid was gone.

**Please review! :D**

**-TheGingernut x **


	6. The Journey From Platform Nine and 34

**Disclaimer: I do not, and never will, own Harry Potter. **

Harry and Jessica's last month at the Dursley's wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry and Jessica that he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon didn't shut them in their cupboard, force them to do anything or shout at them – in fact they didn't speak to them at all. Half- terrified, Half- furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry or Jessica in it was empty. Although this was quite an improvement in many ways, it became quite depressing after a while.

Harry and Jessica kept to their room, with their new pets and each other for company. They had both hosen names. Harry decided to call his own Hedwig. A name he found in a History of Magic and Jessica named her cat Loki, after the Norse trickster god. Their school books were also very interesting. They both laid on their beds reading into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the windows as she pleased and Loki curled up at the end of Jessica's bed. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia never came in to clean anymore as Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before they went to sleep, they would tick off another day on their calendar on the wall, counting down to September first.

On the last day of August they agreed that thy better speak to their aunt and uncle about getting to Kings Cross the next day; so they went down to the living room, where they were watching a quiz show on television. Harry cleared his throat to let them know they were there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room. Jessica tried, and failed, to hide a snicker behind her hand.

"Er- Uncle Vernon?" said Harry.

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er- we need to be at Kings Cross tomorrow to- to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be alright to give us a lift?"

Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes..

"Thank you." said Jessica.

They were about to go upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Neither twin said anything.

"Where is this school anyway?"

"I don't know." said Jessica realising this for the first time. She pulled the ticket that Harry gave her out of her pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three- quarters at eleven o' clock." she read.

Their Aunt and Uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three- quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," Said Uncle Vernon, "There is no platform nine and three- quarters."

"It's on our ticket." Said Jessica.

"Barking." Said Uncle Vernon, "Howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. Just you wait. All right, we'll take you to Kings Cross. We're going up to London anyways or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

Jessica groaned softly.

"Taking Dudley to hospital," growled Uncle Vernon "Got to get that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

"Keep it, it's a good conversation starter." Jessica snickered.

Harry woke at 5 o' clock the next morning and woke Jessica up as he was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. Once she stopped attacking him with her pillow for waking her up so early, they put on their day clothes as they didn't want to seem odd, showing up in their school robes – they'd change on the train.

Harry checked his trunk again, Jessica didn't bother as she had already triple checked hers the night before. They made sure that Hedwig and Loki were secure in their cages before Harry started pacing the room and Jessica read on of the books from Dudley's bookshelf as they waited for the Dursley's to wake up. Two hours later they were, Harry and Jessica's huge, heavy trunks had been loaded into the Dursley's car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry and they set off.

They had reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry and Jessica's trunks onto a trolley and wheeled it into the station for them. Harry thought that this was oddly kind until he stopped in front of the platform with a nasty grin on his face.

"Well, there you are. Platform nine – platform ten. Your platform must be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one net to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have as good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier looking smile. He left without another word.

"Pricks." Jessica snarled after them.

They turned and saw the Dursley's drive away. All three of them were laughing. Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on earth were they going to do? They were starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Loki and Hedwig. They'd have to ask someone.

Harry stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention Platform nine and three- quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn't tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at 11 o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end, the guard strode away muttering about time wasters. According to the large clock on the arrival board, they had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and neither of them had any idea how to do it; if they were stranded in the middle of a station with trunks they could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, a cat and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell them something they had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. They were both starting to wonder whether they should get out their wands and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment, a group of people passed just behind them and they caught a few words of what they were saying.

"–packed with Muggles, of course–"

Harry and Jessica swung around. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry and Jessica's in front of them– and they had an owl.

Hearts hammering, the twins pushed their carts after them. They stopped and they did, too, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three–quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mum, can't I go?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry and Jessica watched, careful not to blink in case they missed it– but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, he boy had vanished.

"Fred, you next," said the plump woman.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he was gone– but how had he done it?"

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier. He was almost there– and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

There was nothing else to it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman, Jessica following him.

"Hello dears," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Jessica. "The thing is– we're not quite sure how to get onto the platform…"

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barriers between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, you both go now before Ron."

"Er– okay," said Harry.

They pushed their trolleys around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

They started to walk toward it. People jostled past them on their way to platforms nine ten. They walked a bit faster. They were going to smash right into that barrier and then they'd be in trouble –Harry leaned forward onto his cart broke into a heavy run, Jessica following close behind–the barrier was coming nearer and nearer–they wouldn't be able to stop–their carts were out of control–they were a foot away– they both closed their eyes, bracing themselves for the crash–

It didn't come… they kept on running… Harry and Jessica opened their eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said _Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock._ Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words, _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it. They had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the windows to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry and Jessica pushed their carts down off the platform in search of empty seats. They passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, _Neville,"_ they heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry and Jessica pressed on through the crowd until they found an empty compartment near the end of the train. Harry put Hedwig and Loki inside first before helping Jessica to shove and heave their trunks toward the train door. They both tried to lift them up the steps but could hardly raise them more than a few inches before it fell, and twice they dropped them on each other's feet.

"You two need a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins they'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the red-haired twins' help, Harry and Jessica's trunks were at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks," said Jessica, breathing heavily.

"What is that?" said one of twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin, "Aren't you–?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Right?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

_"Harry Potter!"_ chorused the red-haired twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

Jessica laughed from her seat near Harry. One of the red-headed boys turned to look at her.

"And you must be his lovely twin sister, Jessica."

"That would be me, yes." She said with a grin.

The two boys gawked at Harry again and he felt himself going red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum."

With one last look at Harry and a smile for Jessica, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, they could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"Mum– geroff!" He wiggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry and Jessica noticed a red and gold badge on his chest with the letter _'P'_ on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments all to themselves–"

"Oh, are you a _prefect_ Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once–"

"Or twice–"

"A minute–"

"All summer–"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a _prefect,"_ said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term– send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two –this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've–you've blown up a toilet or–"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mum."

"It's _not funny._ And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink from where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harry and Jessica leaned back quickly so they couldn't see them looking.

"You know those two kids who were near us in the station? Know who they are?"

"Who?"

_"Harry and Jessica Potter!"_

Harry and Jessica heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mummy, can I go on the train and see him, Mummy, please…"

"You've already seen them, Ginny, and the poor kids aren't something you goggle at in a zoo. Are they really, Fred? How do you know?"

"Asked them. Saw Harry's scar. It's really there– like a bolt of lightning."

"Poor _dears_– no wonder they were alone. They were ever so polite when they asked how to get onto the platform."

"Never mind that, do you think they remember what You–Know–Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I forbid you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need reminding of that on their first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't cry, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls!"

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!"

_"George!"_

"Only joking, Mum."

The train began to move. Harry and Jessica saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed; then she fell back and waved.

Harry and Jessica watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. They both felt a great leap of excitement. They didn't know where they were going– but it had to be better than what they were leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite the twins. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry and Jessica shook their heads and the boy sat down. Jessica got out the book that she had been reading and settled herself comfortably into the seat. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron."

The redheaded twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train– Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry, Jessica," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Harry, Jessica, and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

He nodded.

"Oh– well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got– you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You–Know–Who–?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but we can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well– I do remember a lot of green light," said Harry hesitantly, "but nothing else."

"I remember screaming," Jessica piped up.

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry and Jessica for a few moments, then, as though he suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry. Harry found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him.

"Er– Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

The Weasley's were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"I heard you both went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible," Harry said, "well, not all of them. Our aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. We'd gladly trade them all in for three wizard brothers," said Harry.

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. Our younger sister, Ginny, who you two saw back at the station with our Mum, will be the seventh when she goes to Hogwarts as a first-year next year. You could say I, at least for this year with being the newest Weasley, have a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left– Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but even if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat grey rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect –but they couldn't aff– I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out the window.

Harry and Jessica didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, neither of them had had any money in their lives until a month ago, they told Ron, all about having to wearing Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up.

"… and until Hagrid told us, we didn't know anything about being a witch and wizard or about our parents or Voldemort–"

Ron gasped.

"What?" said Harry.

_"You two said You–Know_–_Who's name"_ said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought the two of you, of all people–"

"We're not trying to be _brave_ or anything, saying his name," said Harry.

"We just never knew we shouldn't. See what we mean? We've got loads to learn… I bet…" he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately. "I bet I'll end up being the worst ones in the classes."

"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet or a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past, until the doors were opened again by a girl with black hair and an annoyed expression.

"Hi, do you mind if I sit here? The girls in my last compartment were driving me mental," she said.

"Sure," Jessica said, looking up from her book.

"Thanks," she said, getting out a brightly coloured magazine.

"What's your name, anyways?"

"Amelia Black. What's yours?"

"Jessica Potter. This is my brother, Harry and this is Ron Weasley," she said pointing to Harry and Ron. Amelia smiled at them before going back to her magazine.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry and Jessica, who hadn't had any breakfast, both leapt to their feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Amelia shook her head without looking up from the magazine. The twins followed the witch out into corridor.

They had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that they both had pockets rattling with gold and silver they were ready to buy as many Mars Bars as they could carry– but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Liquorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry and Jessica had never seen. Not wanting to miss out on anything, they got a bit of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron and Amelia stared as they brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you both?" said Ron.

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bit out of a pumpkin pasty.

Jessica nodded as she took a large bite out of a cauldron cake.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"We'll swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on–"

"You two don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," Harry said. He and Jessica had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It felt nice to them, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry and Jessica's pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

"Do you want one Amelia?" Jessica asked.

"Are you sure? They're yours, you and Harry paid for them." She said.

"Of course," Jessica smiled.

Amelia grinned and picked up a Chocolate Frog.

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not _really_ frogs, are they?" He and Jessica were starting to feel as though nothing could surprise them.

"No," said Ron. "But see what card it is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you both wouldn't know– Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect– famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and moustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So _this_ is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

Jessica turned away from her Cauldron Cake to look over his shoulder.

"Don't tell me you two have never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa –thanks–"

Harry turned over his card and read,

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his and Jessica's astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!" Jessica said.

"Well, you can' expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've about six of her… do either of you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry "But you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. _"Weird!"_

Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon they had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist the Woodcraft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He both finally tore their eyes away from Druidess Cliodra, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned the twins. "When they say every flavour, they _mean_ every_ flavour_– you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavoured one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, inspected it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh– see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavour Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked beans, strawberry, grass, and sardine. Jessica got orange, cheese, dirt, coffee, lettuce, and was even brave enough to nibble the end of a funny grey one that neither of the boys would touch, which turned out to be pepper.

The countryside that was now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields were gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of the compartment and the round-faced boy Harry and Jessica had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"I'm sure he'll turn up," said Amelia.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…"

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you both, look…"

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway–"

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er– all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!"

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed grey and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it?" I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard– I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough– I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said his all very fast.

Harry and Jessica looked at Ron and Amelia and were relieved to see by their stunned faces that they hadn't learned all the set books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Amelia Black," said Amelia.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

" Jessica Potter," said Jessica.

"Are you really?" said Hermione said to Harry. "I know all about you, of course– I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."_

"Am I?" said Harry feeling a little dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do the four of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I heard Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad… Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell– George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloomed seemed to be settling on him again. "Mum and dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw _would_ be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol–, I mean, You–Know–Who was in?" said Harry.

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

He and Jessica both wondered what witches and wizards did once they finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did either of you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet,_ but I suppose you two get that with the Muggles– someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry, Jessica and Amelia stared.

"Really? What happened to them?" asked Amelia.

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark witch or wizard to get around Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You–Know–Who's behind it."

Harry turned this news over in his head. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You–Know–Who was mentioned. They supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but they had both been much more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What are your Quidditch teams?" Ron asked.

"Er– we don't know any." They confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you two wait, it's the best game in the world–" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the eight players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry and Jessica through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. The boy was looking at them with a lot more interest than he'd shown in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where they were looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Harry and Jessica. "You'll both soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort is for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared on his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potters," he said slowly. "Unless you're both a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasley's and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on the two of you."

Harry, Jessica, Amelia and Ron stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you save us the trouble and see yourself out," said Jessica, more bravely than she felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than her, Harry, Amelia and Ron.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still have some."

Goyle reached towards the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron – Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckles– Crabbe and Malfoy back away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What _has_ been going on?" she said, looking at all the sweets scattered across the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No –I don't believe it– he's gone back to sleep."

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the firs to come back to our side after You–Know –Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right– I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glanced at her as she left. Harry and Jessica peered out of the window. It was getting dark. They could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

"We'll wait outside while you change," said Jessica as she and Amelia stood up. She took two Chocolate Frogs off the seat and left the compartment.

Harry and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, his sneakers could be seen underneath them.

Harry opened the compartment door to tell Jessica and Amelia that they could come and change only to find them both sitting on the floor eating Chocolate Frogs and reading Amelia's magazine.

"Jessica?"

"Oh, are you and Ron done then?" she said standing up.

Once Jessica and Amelia had finished changing, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry and Jessica's stomachs lurched with nerves. Ron, they saw, looked pale under his freckles and Amelia was fidgeting with her hands. They crammed their pockets with the last of their sweets and joined the crowd thronging through the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. The twins shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and Harry and Jessica heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry, Jessica?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me– any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Jessica were sharing their boat with Ron and Amelia.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then– FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking he boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got your toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

**A/N – Sorry it took me so long to update, but I've been on holiday and I have only just got back and found the time to actually work on it. **

**Please review! :D**

**-TheGingernut.**


	7. The Sorting Hat

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. **

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and the twins' first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the doors wide open. The entrance hall was so big you could have fitted the whole of the Dursley's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry and Jessica could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right –the rest of the school must already be here– but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering around nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair while Jessica straightened up her uniform which had somehow become rumpled.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harry and Jessica's hearts gave horrible jolts. A test? In front of the whole school? But they didn't know any magic yet– what on earth would they have them do? Neither of them had expected something like this the moment they arrived. They both looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. Harry and Jessica tried hard not to listen to her. They'd never been more nervous, never, not even when they had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that they'd somehow turned their teacher's wig blue, and his shoes pink. They both kept their eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead them both to their doom.

Then something happened that made everyone jump about a foot in the air– several people screamed.

"What the–?"

Harry and Jessica gasped. So did the people around them. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance–"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost– I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though their legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair with Ron behind him, and Jessica behind Ron with Amelia behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry and Jessica had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, the twins looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. They heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, A History."_

It was hard to believe there was ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

They both looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

"Do you think we have to try and pull a rabbit out of it?" Harry whispered. Jessica shrugged. Then they noticed that everyone in the hall was staring at the hat; they stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth– and the hat began to sing:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I am a Thinking Cap!_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered. "I'll kill Fred! He was going on about wrestling a troll!"

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he wished they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking a lot; they didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause–

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry and Jessica saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Black, Amelia!"

A few whispers went out as her name was called but Amelia seemed to have taken no notice. She walked up pale faced and sat on the stool.

"SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat.

Amelia walked over to the Slytherin table and sat next to a girl with a prefect badge pinned to her robes.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy," went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender," became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry and Jessica could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent," then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all they'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.

They were starting to feel definitely sick now. They remembered being picked during gym at their old school. They had always been the last ones to be chosen, not because they were no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked them.

"Finch–Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Jessica noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy in front of Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a full minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

A horrible thought struck Harry and Jessica, as horrible thoughts always do when a person's very nervous. What if they weren't chosen at all? What if they both just sat there with the hat over their eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off their heads and said there had obviously been a mistake and they'd both better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"…, "Nott"…, "Parkinson"…, then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"…, then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last–

"Potter, Harry!"

"Good luck!" Jessica whispered as Harry stepped forward, while whispers from all across the hall broke out like little hissing fires.

_"Potter,_ did she say?"

_"The_ Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat drooped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, ah my goodness, yes– and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin._

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that –no? Well, if you're sure– better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table, mouthing out, 'good luck' to Jessica when he passed her. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put into Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins clapped their hands on his shoulders. Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

Professor McGonagall waited for the Great Hall to quiet down before calling out the next name.

"Potter, Jessica!"

Once again, the hall filled with whispers as Jessica stumbled out of line. Her hands shook as she sat down on the stool, and looked up at the enchanted sky to avoid the stares of the other students as Professor McGonagall set the hat down on her head.

"Ah, let me see..." said the Hat "You have quite the temperament. You're also intelligent and a cunning streak too. Interesting. The question remains, however, where to put you."

"Wherever I would do well in, sir," Jessica thought

"Hmm, I see… SLYTHERIN!"

The hall was silent as Jessica slid off her chair and slid into the seat next to Daphne Greengrass, another Slytherin first year.

She took a look at her brother at the Gryffindor table and felt relieved when he gave her a small smile. She sent him a smile back and turned to watch the rest of the sorting.

Harry and Jessica could both see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest Harry sat Hagrid, who caught their eyes and gave them both thumbs up. Harry and Jessica grinned back. And there, in the centre of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry and Jessica recognized him at once from the card Harry and gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. They also spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw, and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINFOR!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into a chair next to Harry."

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin.

Jessica looked down at her empty gold plate, only now realizing how hungry she was. The cauldron cakes seemed ages ago.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry and Jessica didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he– a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

The twins' mouths fell open. The dishes in front of them were now piled high with food. Hey had never seen so many things they liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry and Jessica, but they'd never been allowed to eat as much as they liked. Dudley had always taken anything that either of them really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry and Jessica both piled their plates with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you–?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you– you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer_ if you call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy–" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

_"Nearly_ Headless? How can you be _nearly_ headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like _this,"_he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So– new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row. The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable– he's the Slytherin ghost."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, to Harry's pleasure, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

Over at the Slytherin table, Jessica was looking at the food with astonishment.

"Cool isn't it?" Amelia grinned. "My mum told me all about the feasts, but I didn't know they'd be this good!"

"It's amazing," said Jessica.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparking clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavour imaginable, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding…

As the Harry helped himself to the treacle tart and ice cream, the talk turned to families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "My dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch until after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out."

The others laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off guard and force some magic out of me –he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned– but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came around for diner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by my ankles when my Great Aunt Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let me go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and into the street. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here– they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

On Harry's other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons (I _do_ hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult–"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing–").

Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooded nose, and sallow skin.

It happened so suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell turban and straight at Harry– and sharp, hot pains shot across the scar on the Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped his hand to his head.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N–Nothing." Harry said.

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling the twins had gotten from the teacher's look– a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.

"Amelia," Jessica said, "who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"

"Oh, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions but I heard that its Quirrell's job he really wants. He's also our Head of House" said Amelia.

Harry and Jessica watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at them again.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem– just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry and Jessica laughed, but they were some of the few that did.

"He's not serious?" Harry muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere– the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teacher's smiles had become very fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and away we go!"

And the school bellowed,

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircases. Harry's legs were like lead again, but only because they were both so tired and full of food. They were too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves– show yourself."

A loud, rude sound like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armour as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it –Neville needed a leg up– and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs surrounding a grand fireplace, where a roaring fire was blazing.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase –they were obviously in one of the towers– they found their beds at last: five four posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pyjamas and fell into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. "Get _off_ Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

Harry was going to ask Ron if he had had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps he had eaten too much, because Harry had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully — and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it — then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold — there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking. Harry rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.

Meanwhile, the Slytherin prefect Gemma Farley led the Slytherins down to the dungeons and stopped in front of a bare stone wall. "Listen up, in order to get into the common room you will need a password. The password will be changed once a month and you will be notified at the start of every month of the next password," she turned to the wall "The password for this month is _Salazar_."

Once she said the password the wall slid open to reveal a large room with stone walls, green lamps and black leather sofas. The room had a slightly greenish tinge and was quite cold, despite the roaring fire.

"Boy's dorm's on the left and girls on the right." Said Gemma "Any problems you have within the house, sort either in the common room or in private."

Jessica headed to the dorms with the other first years, Amelia, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis. After changing into her pyjamas she got into bed and fell asleep, not even mustering up the energy to say goodnight.

* * *

**Sorry it took so long to update...**

**Thanks for reading and please review!**

**-TheGingernut x**


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